Come back, be here
by that-first-glance-feeling
Summary: CS Modern Day AU. 'Childhood friends that keep getting separated and meeting again and again until they realise that maybe – just maybe – they're meant to always find each other' AU more precisely.


**Come Back, Be Here**

 _Childhood friends that keep getting separated and meeting again and again until they realise that maybe – just maybe – they're meant to always find each other_ AU.

A/N: Just in time for CS AU Week, though I honestly have no clue what today's theme is. I've just been meaning to write this for a while and thought now was as good a time as any. Based on real life events because of reasons. (Oops?)

* * *

 _And this is when the feeling sinks in,  
I don't want to miss you like this  
Come back,  
Be here_

* * *

She is six years old when she meets him for the first time, the boy with eyes bluer than the sky, and a smile that makes her want to hug him tight for some reason she is yet too young to even conceive.

It's the first grade and it's the first time Emma starts to believe there might actually be a family in the world who could want her. Her foster father tucks her in every night with a kiss, and her foster mother has a soft voice and kind arms, arms that hold Emma when is afraid of stepping out of the car and into the very scary world of primary school.

She's never had the ability to make friends easily in her previous group homes, and she really doesn't want her first real family experience to be overshadowed by any mean kids in her class.

It's a whole different story, however, for the kids she meets are anything but.

Emma silently sends a thank you up to the sky, towards that bright, tinkling star that must have heard her wish the night prior. And before she even finds Mrs Lucas, the widow who apparently goes by "Granny" and will be teaching her that year, she is greeted by a girl with raven hair and a warm smile, and an excitement to her that grabs Emma by the hair and pulls her towards their classroom.

"Hi I'm Mary Margaret and you're Emma right?"

"Ye-"

"Well Granny told me my job was to find you as soon as you walked into the school and I nearly missed you, do you always walk with your head down like that? Anyway that one right there is our classroom and- oh no, we're going to be late we should probably run come on, yeah keep walking your seat is the one next to mine on the front and-"

She thinks it more than a little funny how the overly eager girl doesn't seem to take a breath at any point between introducing herself, rushing Emma into the room and past a few rows of desks, and finally indicating the seat she was supposed to take beside her own.

"Thank you," Emma breathes out a little overwhelmed as she sits beside Mary Margaret, Granny shortly after introducing her to her classmates with a reassuring hand on her shoulder and a smile.

She takes a deep breath before turning around to glance at the other kids, and that's when she sees him.

A mop of jet black hair moves up to reveal the brightest eyes Emma has ever seen sitting in the desk right behind hers, and she has no idea why, but when he blinks a few times and beams at her, she just-

Her mouth is suddenly dry, and she doesn't even know if he heard her muttered _hi_ until his smile somehow grows wider. He replies with a _hello_ that takes her breath away before he even tells her his name is Killian. Something about the way he speaks sounds very different than anyone else she's ever heard talking, and she's about to ask him why that is when she hears Granny clearing her throat. She gives him a shy smile before turning around in her seat and realising with reddening cheeks that she had probably spent too much time staring at him, all mouth agape and wide eyes, instead of paying attention to the teacher's words.

Emma doesn't know it yet, but it's an innocent mistake she will find herself helplessly making again and again as she grows closer to the boy who sits behind her in class and makes her feel so… _happy_ when she's around him.

Having never formed solid friendships before, Emma will guess she is finally learning what it feels like when you have real friends.

(She's not entirely wrong, but she's not completely right either.)

* * *

Seven months later, her foster father drops her off at school in the morning with the bad news Emma wishes she would never have to hear.

He tells her Ms Mills, her social worker, will be picking her up from school that afternoon. Emma asks why, and when he calmly explains how her foster mum is pregnant and they can't afford to keep her anymore, all she hears is _they're giving her back_.

She doesn't let him finish explaining or apologising, instead rushing out of car and into the arms of her best friend. She can already feel the tears burning in her eyes as she tries to explain to Mary Margaret's shoulder how she doesn't know exactly what's going to happen to her next, but she has a dreadful feeling she won't get to stay in the same school.

"Why do you say that?" Mary Margaret asks, her voice suddenly high-pitched and sounding nearly as scared as Emma's own one. "You can stay, I'm sure you can. You have to, Em."

"I don't know, Mary Margaret," Emma pulls away to wipe at her eyes with the thick sleeve of her uniform sweater. "The group home I came from was in Boston. I guess that's where my social worker will take me back to this afternoon."

She hears a loud clatter behind her and turns around to see Killian's thermos and lunchbox on the floor, his hands hanging on his sides and his shoulders slumped. She can feel her bottom lip starting to quiver the second she looks up to see the despair all over his frowning face.

"You're leaving?" He runs over to where she is standing still, frozen in place and unable to stop staring at the red rims slowly forming around his eyes, only vaguely aware of the bell ringing and the other kids walking to their classrooms. "Today?"

"They're giving me back, Killian. They- They're having a baby and they can't keep me anymore."

He takes her hand and squeezes and it's like she can't hold back the fresh, hot tears that roll down her cheeks – their fingers automatically entwining together and holding on, a gesture she had become so used to in past seven months, that she now realises just how she is going to miss it – miss _him._

"Can't you even finish the year here?" He pleads.

"I don't know. I just know that Regina is picking me up later today." She shrugs, already feeling defeated and resigned.

"You could ask her to let you stay…"

"Of course I'll ask her. But you know she doesn't really like me much, and she probably won't…" She trails off, knowing he'll get her meaning all the same. They both just know Regina would never go through as much trouble as it would probably take to have her transferred from her original group home in Boston to one closer to Storybrooke, Maine.

Killian seems to finally resign himself to the inevitable, and the last thing Emma sees is the movement of his throat as he swallows before he pulls her into a crushing hug she has no intention of pulling away from.

When Granny finds them hugging near the playground, she only softly reproaches the two of them for not coming to class, saying Mary Margaret told her Emma is going away and she's very sorry, but that it doesn't make it right to skip class. Killian takes her hand again as they walk into the classroom and does not let go until they reach their desks. Seeing the obvious reluctance with which both kids move towards their usual seats, Mrs Lucas lets Emma sit wherever she likes and she bites her lip considering it.

All it takes is one look at the small smile already tugging the corners of Killian's mouth and she's made her decision.

Emma points at Killian's best friend, David, who always sits beside him and right behind Mary Margaret's desk, and Granny nods her head conceding with a knowing grin she quickly smooths away. Before she takes his seat, David gives a slight squeeze to her shoulder and flashes her a sympathetic smile, moving quickly to take her place beside Mary Margaret as the sadness in his features morphs into something a lot brighter.

After their lunch break, when the four of them sit together and eat by the playground, promising to keep in touch no matter Emma is taken to, the rest of the day's classes go by in a blur.

Emma startles but isn't really surprised when a tiny square of lined paper lands on her desk coming from her right. She unfolds the note and feels her chest tightening at the sight of the words formed by his messy but adorably curly handwriting.

 _Promise me you'll come back?_

Emma closed her eyes and sighed, turning to see his pleading face through her increasingly blurry vision. How could she, when she didn't even know where she would be taken in the first place?

 ** _What if I can't come back?_**

 _I know you will._

 ** _But if I can't?_**

 _Then I will find you._

 ** _Can you promise me that?_**

 _I promise I will always find you, Emma._

Emma balls up her fists and shoves them into her coat pockets as soon as she arrives at the group home that had haunted her nightmares ever since she left it. Feeling the small square with Killian's note between her fingers, she thinks of his beaming smile, of Mary Margaret's embrace, of David's endless jokes about all the silly fairy tale characters they were reading about for school.

She steels herself and enters the shared bedroom she prayed she would never have to return to.

She will come back.

Someday, she knows she will.

* * *

She is twelve years old when she meets him for the second time, the boy with eyes bluer than the sky, and a smile that takes her back to years ago, when life was simpler and she didn't bear the scars left by bullying and rejection.

(She had felt a wave of relief when she found out August was still at the group home in Boston, only to realise seven months had been plenty of time for him to make new friends and decide to leave her on the sidelines. He would still sit with her during lunch time at the beginning. She would tell him all about Mary Margaret, Killian and David, and he would nod his head along and look like he was listening attentively.

But, given the way he would waste no time in leaving her without so much as an invitation to come along with him and his older, _cooler_ friends, Emma would always wonder whether he really listened to anything she said. Or anything she felt for that matter.)

Emma walks into the new school with a shaky breath and a racing heart, feeling more than a little nostalgic at finding herself back in Storybrooke after six years of begging Regina to get her transferred to the group home she painstakingly discovered was there after lots of unrewarded research, and she's having trouble believing she is actually coming back to the city she used to think of as home.

As she climbs up two flights of stairs to the second floor, Emma hopes against hope that somehow, through some sort of providential intervention or fate or whatever could have the power to bring her back to him - that he'll just _be here_ and _find her_ , all the while half-heartedly chastising herself for being a fool and believing in impossible things - she turns the corner and enters the hallway that should lead her to the seventh grade classrooms and nearly trips on her own feet when he's just _there._

Emma cannot believe her eyes – could it possibly, seriously, _actually_ be him – until she realises she knows the familiar blonde male head standing in front of him with her back turned to her, and she knows even better the raven hair (though, Emma admits, it looks strikingly differently in the pixie haircut she currently sports) and the snow white skin she came to associate with the fairy tale character that always reminded her of her best friend.

She is standing there dumbfounded, looking to all the world like she had just seen a ghost (or three), when his unfairly blue eyes wander from David's face and find her over his friend's shoulder, his jaw falling slack for a second before he pushes past between the two of them and makes his way over to her.

"Emma?" He sighs her name through his lips in a warm puff of air that dances across her cheeks, and she can't help the burning crimson she knows is creeping up her face in that moment. "Is it really you?"

She blinks about a hundred times, takes a couple of steadying breaths, and tries but fails to find her voice. His smile is too dazzling, the look in his eyes too emotional and cherishing, raking over her figure like he either can't believe she is really there, or he does believe it and is so terribly afraid she'll slip away from him again.

(Probably both.)

"Hi," she eventually musters, her eyes never leaving his.

"EMMA!" Mary Margaret nearly screaming of her name breaks her sudden reverie and she finds herself being wrapped in two slender arms before she can even say a second word to the boy who visited her nearly every night in her dreams and whose scribbled note she carried everywhere with her in the back pocket of her well loved jeans.. "I missed you so much, we all did. I can't believe you're really back after all this time."

"It's good to finally have you back, Em," David says with a warm smile, embracing her over Mary Margaret's arms and squeezing the three of them into a sandwich she doesn't mind being stuck in one bit.

Emma looks up from her friend's shoulders at Killian, who is staring at the scene unfolding in front of him with something akin to fondness permeating his expression. She doesn't hesitate in freeing one of her arms to reach out and motion for him to join in, ignoring the telltale scratch he gives the area behind his ear and tugging him into their tangle of sappy arms that missed and waited for far too long.

"Dave, mate stop squeezing so tight, I can't bloody breathe!"

"And as you can see, Emma, your Killian here is still every bit the drama queen he was in primary school," David quips in, giving their affectionate bundle one last bruising hug before letting go of everyone.

"Wait, what did you say? _My_ Kil-"

"Oh, give him a break, David," Mary Margaret cuts her off, placing a placating hand on Killian's shoulder that softens the glare he was directing at one laughing David. "He's just touchy after seeing Emma again."

At that, Emma finally looks at him again to find his face growing pink from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

"Oh, is he now?" She teases him, moving closer into his personal space with a newfound boldness and jabbing in the ribs, hitting right in that particularly ticklish spots she remembers well from their tickle wars during break time in first grade.

Killian jumps up in surprise, but then she's the one surprised at his quick recovery when he's lightly pinching her waist in that way that is just completely unfair, and damn him for remembering her weak spot.

"Alright, alright you two," David intervenes when Killian's caught both her arms and she's still reeling over her fit of breathless giggles. "Class is about to start so I suggest we get on our way. We don't want Emma to get in trouble on her first day, do we?" He shoots Killian a pointed look.

"No, we don't," Killian agrees. "Let's go."

He wraps his arms around her shoulders in a way that's too easy and familiar for comfort, but even she had grown to be a bit wary of people who get too close to her in the past few years, she feels an unbidden pang of disappointment flooding her chest when his arms drops as they reach the classroom.

"You're sitting beside me this time, by the way," he informs her, leading the way to the only two vacant desks side by side in the room.

"Says who?" Emma says, with a challenging tone to her voice and that archness to her smirk that he had missed so.

"I say so," he replies, taking up her challenge and raising his own eyebrow at her in mock defiance. "Having to poke you from behind to get your attention all the time was too tiresome. We're remedying that as of right now."

"And here I thought you preferred to throw crumpled notes at me rather than the poking method," she says, accepting his imposition and dropping her bag on the floor by the chair he chose for her. Not that she had any real reason to argue with his choice other than it being just too amusing to pass on the opportunity.

(She doesn't miss his relieved smile when he watched her pulling the chair back and sitting down next to him though.)

" _Folded_ notes, never crumpled. And trust me, Swan, you can expect lots of notes to land on your desk just the same."

"Good." She smiles down at the algebra book she is arranging on her desk, not quite finding it in her to meet his gaze as she spoke. "Just like old times."

"Just like old times, love."

Still utterly unable to look at him, she feels, rather than sees, the warm smile he sends her way.

* * *

She is sixteen years old, and saying she's frustrated with him might well be the understatement of the year.

It's the tenth grade and it's the first time Emma starts to believe he might actually return her feelings for him. Three years of being his best friend and 5 months after he was her first kiss in Truth or Dare at Ruby's birthday party, she thinks she is finally capable of telling him she's never stopped thinking about that kiss, and that's she's never seen him only as a friend.

So she waits for the perfect opportunity to tell him – _wait_ being the imperative word. When Mary Margaret or David, if not both, don't interrupting a moment she was having with Killian, it's his bashfulness kicking in, making him pull away and put some distance between them, effectively breaking the moment before she's even had time to utter a single word.

Emma is nearly giving up on the idea entirely – who was she fooling, it was an ill-fated mission from the beginning, like he could ever see her as more than just a friend – when he surprises her with two tickets for the new amusement park that's just opened near the harbour.

"This Friday night. What do you say, Swan?" Killian asks her with a bright smile of sheer hope that takes her aback for a moment. "We're celebrating Victor's birthday there, everyone's going. Even David, believe it or not."

She isn't expecting the words that came out of his mouth any more than she expects the crushing feeling that comes along with them. Her thoughts from only two minutes ago echoing over and over in her mind – like he could ever see her as more than just a friend – and she wishes for just a second that she had never met him. No, she would never trade knowing him and having the privilege of being his best friend for anything in the world.

Not even for a family that truly wanted her.

At that moment, Emma Swan tells herself she has finally learned what heartbreak feels like, and laughs inwardly at the irony that it came to her at the hands of the one person she trusted more than anyone else.

Little does she know, her heart was and would continue to be his, to break or treasure, for longer than she could possibly imagine.

* * *

Emma is giving herself one last look in the tiny mirror of the shared bedroom when she hears the doorbell ring. She rushes over to the bottom bunk to grab the selected handbag for the night, which she had haphazardly tossed on her bed in her hurry to get ready in time, and successfully dodges Tink's dangling legs from the top bunk so as not to ruin the hair she spent half an hour moulding into soft curls.

"Don't worry, Emma. You look amazing," Tink calls out just as Emma is about to reach their bedroom door. "He's a sodding idiot if he doesn't fall head over heels for you tonight."

"Thanks, Tink. Hope you're right," Emma says, sending a conspiratory wink to the girl who is to thank for the gorgeous green eyes (which brings out her eyes just right, according to Tink) she borrowed for her almost-date night. She rushes down the stairs just as Mrs. Locksley, the sweet manager of the Storybrooke group home Emma had fought her way into, opens the door to one fidgeting Killian Jones, who ' _cleans up nicely_ ' indeed – she swears to herself she'll quote Ruby's words back to her this evening and finally convince her of how they did not do Killian justice, not even close.

Emma gives herself a mental shake and manages not to look too awestruck at the sight of him wearing dark wash jeans and a light grey button up, succeeding masterfully at looking even more devastatingly handsome than usual. To his credit, Killian stops fidgeting and shuffling the second he sees her, descending the stairs in an emerald summer dress that makes him forget his own name.

"You look stunning… Swan."

She ducks her head in a fruitless attempt to hide her blushing cheeks, and manages a shy smile in response before she can let her eyes drink him in. "You look…"

"I know," he replies with a casual shrug of his shoulder, earning himself a typical Emma Swan eye roll before her mouth goes agape as he presents her with a long-stemmed red rose.

"Wow, you really went all out." Her nervous laughter does nothing to soothe the butterflies wreaking havoc in her stomach at the way he's looking at her like she's something precious, and Emma briefly lets herself entertain the idea that maybe, for him, she is.

"They say you never forget the first date so, I wanted to make it memorable," he says, placing his hand at the small of her back as he leads her down the front steps of the house and towards the car – _Liam_ 's car. "Even Liam thought it was a good enough reason to let me borrow his car for once."

"I have to say I'm impressed, but…" she bites her lip and avoids his eyes as she voices the question that's been eating at her ever since he showed up with two tickets to the place he knew she'd been dying to visit since hearing of their grand opening weeks before. "Are we going on a date, then? I thought you said everyone else is going to be there too."

He opens the door on the passenger side for her and offers his hand. "Only if you want it to be, Emma. They are going to be there, but that doesn't mean we have to be around them. I was afraid of making you uncomfortable so I- I wanted you to have the choice."

It's not her fault she can't help the smile that gives her answer away before she even takes his hand, she just can't quite believe this is all really happening.

"Well, I say we enjoy tonight just the two of us," Emma finally says before stepping into the car.

She has to bite her lip to keep it together when he presses a soft kiss to the back of her hand before closing her door.

"As you wish."

* * *

They had been enjoying a blissful daze of quiet moments and date nights for three months when Emma receives the fateful call from Regina.

There was a foster family in Boston wanting to take her in.

"But Regina, I'm sixteen years old, can't I decide where I want to live? I want to stay in the group home with the Locksleys," Emma pleads with the social worker through her phone, while Killian holds her free hand and prepares himself for the worst. He knows Regina, knows all too well the woman who kept Emma away from the town she saw as her home for six years. He knows better than to expect her to start working for Emma rather than for the system at this point.

"Fine. Speak later," Emma mutters before hanging up, placing her phone on the floor by Killian's bed before letting her head fall back and rest against the side of the mattress.

"You're leaving again…" He trails off, releasing a shaky breath he hadn't realised he was holding when he notices the tears welling up in her eyes.

Emma screws her eyes shut, hoping a gesture as small as that would be enough to shut down everything else collapsing around her. Realising that, unfortunately, it is not, she releases the wracking sobs she'd been trying to hold back as Killian gathers her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin and letting a few tears of his own fall on her hair.

"Don't take this the wrong way, love, but you shouldn't despair, love," he whispers into her hair, trying to clear his throat of some of the heavy emotions he can't seem to keep from finding a place in voice. "It's okay, Emma. It really is."

"Did you not hear the part where Regina said she's taking me to Boston?" She pushes him away a little to face him with an indignant scowl. "How could this possibly be okay?"

"Because, love," he says in a gentle tone, then abruptly stops and sighs, framing her face tenderly with both hands before pressing kisses to her forehead, both her cheeks, the tip of her nose, the corners of her mouth, and finally capturing her lips in soft, though urgent kiss. "I know you'll come back. You always find your way back to me. To all of us."

"I wish I could be as optimistic as you are about this," she grumbles with a frown, then suddenly lets go of the handfuls of his shirt she had been holding on to for dear life and craned her torso towards her handbag resting top of his bed. "As you've _always_ been," she says, wiping at her tears almost angrily with the back of her hand and retrieving the old tiny square of folded lined paper, handing it to him with a sigh.

Emma thinks she might start crying all over again seeing the fond way he runs his thumb over the small piece of paper, but she doesn't. She manages a small smile for him though, when he takes her hand and presses the tiny square into her palm, closing her fist with both his hands and raising it to kiss mouth to kiss each one of her white-turning knuckles.

"I have faith in us, Emma. You just need to find your hope, too, so then you can start working on making your way back here."

Killian lets go of her hand to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, but Emma keeps her fist raised at her eyes level, staring at it like she might just find there all the answers, all the _hope_ she needs. "And if I can't?"

Her words are a quiet whisper he hears ringing in his ears loud as thunder, taking him back to former times, times also of fear and uncertainty, when he couldn't have known as much of love and destiny as the admitted little he now knows. Still he gave her something to hold on to back then, something that he knows, somehow, played a crucial role in bringing her back to him, and he's never been one to change a winning team anyway.

"Then you know what I'll have to do, Swan," he whispers back with a smile that speaks of hope, his words as soft and loaded as a promise.

 _I promise I will always find you, Emma_

* * *

 _ **To be continued….**_


End file.
